FIC: Fading Addiction Part Eighteen
Thank you everyone; love you all so much! And this comm.... it’s just amazing. <3. Anyway, yes. Again, kudos to Kyry and everyone who’s left reviews!
Fading Addiction Part Seventeen is here.
Fading Addiction Part Eighteen
The question that Rachel had asked me about Cuddy struck a chord with me. It had felt so natural to admit that Cuddy made me feel good; better than I’d felt in a long time. Though I’d been asked several more questions after that one, it was the only question that I felt had truly made an impact on me from the session. This in turn brought to mind many other questions, though I wasn’t sure that I’d be able to share them with anyone; even Rachel as my therapist. In short, they were far too personal to reveal, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to answer them myself. For example, would I have developed anorexia had I developed a relationship with Cuddy sooner? Would Cuddy and I have ever entered a relationship were it not for my anorexia? But most importantly of all, would my relationship with Cuddy be my ultimate saviour?
Though I knew it was stupid to put faith into a relationship saving me from an eating disorder, I couldn’t help but be hopeful that it’d make anorexia easier to fight. That, fundamentally, was the main change in my thinking. No longer did I seek the comfort of starvation, but looked for salvation in Cuddy. Inside I didn’t feel ready to face the recommended 2000 calories a day need to survive, but maybe trying to work towards managing to eat just a little would help. More importantly, it just might be enough to keep me alive until I was better.
If I got better.
After all, there was always the chance that I’d succumb to this. That my heart would just stop. That my body would give up and I’d just die. There was a time when I wasn’t sure if I minded death; it wasn’t like living was so much damn fun was it? Now though, I wanted to wake up, breathe, feel like there was something to look forward to. I so badly wanted Cuddy to be my reason for living, and not the anorexia. Anorexia was a destroyer, and quite frankly, Cuddy was anything but that.
That’s what I told myself, hours after the therapy session as I sat in front of the plate of salad. No dressing, just lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber and onion. Healthy, basic, but more than I’d eaten and digested in months. I stared, examining it, moving it around the plate, wondering what the first mouthful would taste like. Would I have to spit it out? If I did manage to eat it, could I keep it down? Inside I was so scared that not only would I not be able to stop eating once I’d taken the first mouthful, but that I’d purge and my heart, finally, would give up. More than ever I wanted to just eat it; there’d only be about a hundred calories in the entire salad anyway. However, the more I willed myself to eat, the more stressed out I became when I couldn’t take the first bite. Why couldn’t I just eat? Why?
Feeling slightly sick now, I shut my eyes. It felt as if I was trying to achieve the impossible by sitting in front of a plate of food. Nevertheless, if I couldn’t even cope with a simple salad, how would I ever be able to progress onto real food? Food like potatoes, sandwiches, pasta and rice? Carbohydrates. Fat. Sugars. It wasn’t going to happen; not in a million years. The thought of being like this forever, until death finally took me, sickened me to the bone. It was this thought that gave me the power, psyched me up so that with a sharp breath in, I placed the food into my mouth. Carefully I chewed it, not liking the watery taste, but coping. As I swallowed, I willed my body to accept it, and for my mind to stay calm. There. Done. I took a sip out of the glass of water beside me, then took a second mouthful, chewing it the same way as I had the first, swallowing in it apprehensively, but hopeful. Once I’d managed this, I took a third. A fourth, followed by a fifth, until I felt steady enough to stop counting and just to focus on clearing the plate.
Mission Accomplished.
Though I was proud of myself for managing to finish the salad (in no less than an hour) I couldn’t help but feel like I’d put on about two stone in weight. Though I knew it was a bad idea, I walked into the bathroom, stepped onto the scales. I’d put on a pound. Scared, I contemplated throwing up, but realised that I’d come so far; it would be stupid to give up now. Besides, it was probably just water weight, and it was the only thing I’d eaten today. I’d be fine. All I had to do was forget about food for the time being, focus on something else, like maybe watching some television.
Just as I was about to curl up on the couch, the phone rang. Padding over to it, I picked up, hoping it would be Cuddy. “Hello?” I spoke.
“Hey, it’s me,” So it was Cuddy. “Just wondering how things went today?”
“Ok. Well, as ok as a therapy session can be,” I said lightly.
“Do you… want to talk about it?” She asked hesitantly.
“I don’t know what there is to talk about,” I answered honestly. “You pretty much know everything we talked about today. Yes there’s some things I admitted but, and don’t take this the wrong way, but I’d rather not tell you.”
“That’s fine; it really is. I just wanted to make sure you were ok,” she said, concern evident in her voice.
Trying not to smile too much at the thought of Cuddy worrying about me, I said, “There’s something else I did want to tell you though.”
“What’s that?” She enquired.
I declared, “I’ve just managed to eat a plate of salad.”
Cuddy hesitated for a moment before saying, “That’s good?”
Frowning, though I knew she couldn’t see me I questioned, “You don’t think it is?”
“Don’t get me wrong Allison, that’s really great. But don’t you think you should try and eat something else? You’re still going to lose weight eating just one salad in a day; you do realise that?”
“Of course I realise that!” I exclaimed angrily. “But it’s progress for God’s sake! I usually struggle to eat a few leaves of lettuce, but I sat there, and managed to finish an entire plate of salad.”
“Don’t get upset,” Cuddy pleaded. “I’m just worried that it’s not enough.” When I remained silent she added quietly, “I care about you too much to lose you.”
“I’m not upset,” I lied. “I just thought you’d be pleased.”
Cuddy tried to explain, “I am. I promise. If you say that’s progress, then that’s really amazing news.”
Unsure if she even believed what I was saying, I searched for reassurance. “You do believe that I ate that salad don’t you?”
“Yes,” she said solemnly. “Honestly, I do. I know you’re trying, and that’s all that matters right now.”
Allowing myself to smile, I paused. Then, after a few seconds I stated, “I miss you.”
“Miss you too,” Cuddy replied softly.
I smiled even more at her words. “See you tomorrow?”
“Definitely.” She said instantly. “Night sweetheart.”
Grinning at the fact she’d called me sweetheart, I replied “Night night.” Hanging up the phone and collapsing onto the sofa, suddenly on top of the world, despite everything.